


Wintersong

by pikkugen



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17021733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikkugen/pseuds/pikkugen
Summary: Moomintroll decides to spend the winter awake after Snufkin has left. The beginning of the winter is a bleak time, but there are old friends around, too.





	Wintersong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frimfram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frimfram/gifts).



One crispy morning in early November Moomintroll woke up, looked out of his window, and found out that Snufkin had left. There was a square of yellow withered grass in the riverbank where his tent had been for the summer and a handful of cold ash in the circle of stones that had been his fireplace. 

Moomintroll knew this happened every autumn and even though he had been expecting it any day now, he was sad to lose his friend for the winter. He padded downstairs for breakfast, feeling like this was the worst day of the whole year. 

Moominmamma had put a huge bowl of pine needles in the breakfast table although she had made a pot of coffee too. Pappa was wondering about it, but as Moomintroll plopped on his seat Mamma answered to him: 

”I thought Moomintroll might like to stay up this winter too. I would like to see snow, it sounds pretty, but I think I'll take a nap first. Of course if you want to hibernate, you can, my child... and I think I'll continue to hibernate if the winter gets too cold.” 

Pappa filled his bowl with pine needles and thought about it. Then he shrugged and started to eat his needles and between spoonfuls he said: ”I think I'm too old for that. You do what you want, my son, I'll just sleep through the winter like I have so far. I've filled the basement furnace with turf, so if you're going to be awake, you could see that the fire doesn't go out.” 

Mamma sighed, took a bowl of needles and said, ”Wake me up if something exciting happens,” and chewed thoughtfully her needles. Moomintroll took a piece of toast and a cup of coffee, but after the breakfast as his parents started to yawn and arrange their sleeping gear around the tiled oven in the salon, he prepared his bed too just in case. The winter was going to be long, and although he planned to make a nest somewhere just like last winter, it was good to know there was a warm inviting bed waiting for him. He spent the day arranging things he might need during the winter, went to bed when his parents did, but slept in his own room so he could set up an alarm. 

In the morning Moomintroll wrapped a big scarf around his neck and went out in the brisk frost. To his surprise there was no snow; just a layer of rime on the withered grass that crackled and melted under his feet. A sliver of sun was peeking over the mountains in the East, and over the sea there hung a grey veil of cloud, waiting to gather more mass before it could drop its contents over the waiting valley. There was no-one moving out this late in the autumn, the houses farther in the valley were dark and closed against the winter, and the secret creatures of winter were still hiding wherever they did in this strange dividing time between the autumn and the true winter. 

The bathing house was empty and smelled forsaken, the leftovers of the summer still hanging from the pegs and piled under the benches. But the stove was there, waiting for Too-ticky and the invisible shrews and whatever winter things might spend their nights there. 

And suddenly a merry melody echoed from the beach. Too-ticky was playing her barrel organ in defiance of the oncoming winter, and Moomintroll ran out to greet her in the capricious wind. 

”Tonight it will snow,” she said in greeting. ”And then we'll have a proper winter. My invisible shrews are collecting their winter storage, but they'll be here with the snow.” The wind flew a few dry leaves on the shore, and Moomintroll shivered. 

”Is it always this bleak before snow?” he asked, and Too-ticky smiled. ”The world needs to prepare for sleep before it can tuck in,” she said. ”The snow will come. Run home and make sure you have everything you need, if you're going to stay awake for the winter.” 

He grumbled a bit, but did just that. The merry tune danced in his mind all day long, except the day wasn't very long at all. When the meager sliver of sun set, he lighted an oil lamp and went around the house to see if he had forgotten anything. 

The family slept peacefully, the fire burned brightly in the furnace, the windows and doors were carefully barred for the winter, and Moomintroll left a shovel next to the front door so he could dig through the snow in the morning. Then he yawned and went to the kitchen to eat something. 

There was some quiet rustling under the sink, and he remembered the weird little creature from previous winter. He remembered how angry the little creeper had been when he tried to speak to it, so he just left it alone until Too-ticky could help him to apologize to him properly. He took a piece of toast and some strawberry juice that Mamma had left for him, looked at the bowl of pine needles on the table and decided to go to bed without any needles. 

He woke up in the middle of the night. The sound of the wind had changed, it no longer howled angrily in the chimney, but now it whispered softly and coldly in his ears. The night was white. He padded to his window and looked out, and saw a full moon over the Lonely Mountains. A flurry of large white snowflakes was overtaking the moonlight from the sea, and far on the outer islets the Groke was singing her icy song. The sea was freezing in sharp blades and needles, the waves had calmed. 

He pulled on his scarf and padded out, fascinated. The night was wholly white in a very different way than in the summer, it was a cold and bare and hard light, softened only by the flurry of snow tumbling lightly from the sky. 

He laughed as he ran to the shore. He heard a string of music, a tiny flute playing; the night was alive with furtive little movement around him, as the creepers of the winter appeared from their summer hideaways. Every little puddle he stepped on cracked as the fragile ice broke under his feet like spun sugar. The river was still black and alive, but the bridge had needles of frost all over it. And to his surprise he saw a very familiar figure sitting on the railing of the bridge, in his old pointed hat and faded green coat. 

”The passes of the Lonely Mountains were full of snow already,” said Snufkin. ”I guess I'll be spending the winter here, then.” 

Moomintroll took his paw, pulled him with him towards the bathing house where the firelight was already winking kindly through the coloured glass windows, and laughed all the way. The song of winter was dancing before them, crisp and cold and full of joy and promise.


End file.
